October
by Seishuku Skuld
Summary: m/m yaoi(slash), SolxKy. Sol ruminates on his relationship with Ky on a stormy Sunday morning in October. Heavy lime warning, fluff, and a healthy dose of angst. Mild spoilers.


**October**

by Seishuku Skuld (skuldhotohori@yahoo.com)

Series: Guilty Gear

Pairing: Sol x Ky

Warnings: yaoi lime, a little bit of angst, sap

Author's note:  I have no clue where in the GG timeline this fits in.  I just wanted to write something Sol x Ky that was abominably sweet.  Just take it at face value, and don't think too hard about it. ^_^ 

Disclaimer: All characters herein belong to Sammy Studios and ARC systems, and are used with implied oral consent, not expressed written consent.

*~*~*~*~*~*

It was raining outside.  The water splashed against the window, droplets of heavenly tears flowing in rivulets down the smooth planes of glass.  It was falling in a rhythmic pitter-patter against the roof, a polyphonic staccato counterpoint to the regular breathing of the two occupants of the bedroom.  

It was nearly dawn, and though the sun had not yet risen, there was already a thick cloud-covering about the sky, an opaque grey veil hovering close to the city, heralding the arrival of a dark and dreary day.  It was much too early to be awake of course, but since his insomnia had returned, there wasn't much he could do.

He sighed, detaching his arm from his lover's sleeping embrace.  Ky had the unusual and occasionally annoying habit of being rather cuddly in bed.  It was no problem in the winters, of course, but during the Parisian summers it was ridiculously hot, especially since Ky had made the decision to forego any sort of climate control in his apartment.

Sol sat up in bed, lifting the damp sheets from him.  It was mid-autumn, but Paris had made the unfortunate decision to remain in an unusually long summer.  He padded quietly to the window and opened it, a blast of fresh air immediately streaming into the room.  The streets of the Quartier Latin were oddly quiet even for this hour, but Sol was grateful for the stillness.  He liked it quiet.  

He sat on the windowsill, completely unclothed, enjoying the cool wash of the rain on his skin.  It was wet, refreshingly cold, and he liked the feel of it—the formation of the droplets and how they ran down his arms and his chest, joining with others to form distinct streams of liquid running across his flesh.  It chilled him, and that reminded him, for a few fleeting moments that he was still human.  And that was a very important thing.    

Since he had begun lodging with Ky, he had removed all the mirrors in the boy's apartment, including the one in the bathroom.  Ky had insisted on keeping a large hand-mirror in the bathroom drawers, saying he had to check his hair every morning.  Sol had reluctantly finally relented, on the count that the mirror remain face-down every time he walked into the room.  

Sol hated mirrors.  They were nasty things that always showed him a bit more than just his reflection.  They were devious little creatures that always reminded him of a few things he often did not want to think about.  The mark on his forehead was one of them.  That was something he wanted to forget about, something of himself he wanted to leave behind.  

Ky never talked about it, but even some nights, during their lovemaking, Ky would touch it.  It felt hot then, when the younger man would lay his slim fingers on it, trace its pattern with a good measure of fear.  Ky tried to hide it, but Sol could still see it in his eyes.  He hated those moments, when Ky's blue eyes would leave his and focus on the symbol.  And then Ky would be lost for a few seconds, reliving the nightmare days of the Crusades, the horrible moments of war when scores of men would die and a whole army of Gears emerge from the mountains, and he would tense and once more be genuinely afraid.  Then Ky would suddenly break out of his reverie and smile a bit, placing a tantalizing kiss on Sol's lips, and whatever they had been doing before would continue as if nothing had happened.  

But it had been done, and that always nagged at the back of Sol's mind, no matter how spectacular their subsequent bedtime activities would be.  For days on end, the image of a frightened Ky, lying in his arms, pressed against the bed, would haunt him.  

Sol closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of the Parisian showers, the smell of damp soil coming from the Jardin du Luxembourg, and the faint perfume of the blooming flowers.  And of course, there was always the heady aroma of Ky.  It permeated the apartment and every corner of the room; it emanated from the sheets and from the boy's sleeping form, and to Sol it was the sweetest thing he had ever known.  Ky was a mix of all smells, the crackling of lightning and the streets of Paris; he was the cleanliness of his immaculate Seikishidan uniform, as well as the sharp, pungent fragrance of the wine he drank at the dinner table every night.  Ky was exhilarating, Ky was vivid, crisp, cool, and invigorating.  Ky was sweet, soft, loving and forgiving and Ky understood.  But most of all, Ky reminded him that a part of him was still human—no, that he was still all human, and that not a shred of that had ever been taken away from him.  

And that was why Sol loved him so much.  

He had been sick and tired of it all, sick of the stupid war, sick of Justice and his own rash actions as a young man, sick of everything coming back to slap him in the face time and again.  But through it all, from the moment he had joined the Seikishidan, Ky had been there, in one form or another.  Whether it was hating him, or loving him, Ky had always been there.  And now, Ky was beside him—or rather he was sleeping in their bed, in their apartment, on a rainy October morning.  

Sol suddenly smiled.  It was small grin, and by anyone else's standards would not have been a smile at all, but to both he and Ky, it was one of those rare moments of contentment.  

Sol remained on the windowsill while morning came and went, and the rains stopped and the clouds receded, much to his surprise.  Then there came the sunlight breaking through the thunderheads, and from the buildings and the shops, people emerged to crowd the streets and gardens, going about their shopping and the rest of their leisurely business on a Sunday.  

Morning had already become early afternoon when Ky finally stirred from his slumber, his young and limber body arching alluringly as he stretched and yawned.  The snow-white sheets had slipped, falling down from his chest and hanging precariously in the pelvic region, leaving very little to Sol's imagination.

"Good morning," Sol said in greeting, his eyes roving appreciatively over his lover's lithe form.  That was another thing that he loved about Ky – he was in all ways, absolutely beautiful.  

"Bonjour," Ky responded, rolling onto his side and propping his head up with an arm.  "Quel heure est-il?"

"It's past noon," Sol answered in English.  Another one of Ky's little annoying habits was to speak to him in French.  He didn't understand one whit of French beyond the basic greetings, and with the French all haughty and protective about their language, he had no desire to learn it.  

"Past noon?!" Ky sputtered suddenly, sitting up.  He paid no heed to the blankets which were very close to slipping entirely off the bed.  "Why didn't you wake me?"

Sol shrugged, rising from his perch by the window in one swift, fluid motion.  "You were sleeping so soundly, I didn't want to wake you."

"You should have," Ky replied with a slight frown on his face, "I've already wasted half the morning."

"Well then, you should make good of the rest of the day, shouldn't you?"  And with a very appraising eye, Sol gave Ky a mischievous look.  His gaze traveled from the end of the bed to Ky's legs, and up to his slim hips where the thin white sheets were hardly hiding anything.

Sol smirked and crouched down as if ready to pounce on his prey.  From the bright red shade that Ky's cheeks had quickly turned, the younger man had understood everything Sol had said—and not said.  

That was another thing about Ky, Sol mused as he clambered cat-like onto the bed, there was something mysterious about the boy, something enchanting that whether it was a vicious or amorous confrontation, demanded and held all of his attention.  He focused on Ky, and the blond shrunk back as Sol approached, the very distance he put between them drawing Sol nearer.  Sol suspected that Ky knew of this, and used it to his advantage.  

Finally, Ky had withdrawn to the other end of the bed, his eyes locked with Sol's.  They had not spoken a word since Sol had first made his implicit proposal, but there had still been a leash/collar kind of play going on which Ky retreated and Sol followed; and neither knew who it was that truly held the leash or wore the collar.  They figured it didn't really matter.  

At the edge of the bed, Ky stopped moving and waited patiently for Sol to make his way over.  Sol grasped his hand first, bringing it to his lips where he gave it a delicate kiss.  Then, without warning, Sol was on his knees, pinning Ky to the bed.  Ky smiled defiantly, not struggling but not entirely yielding, and responded to Sol's advances by arching his neck up and catching the man's mouth in a deep kiss.  Sol shifted his weight subtly, moving his legs so Ky would have room to move; and move Ky did, brushing sensuously against Sol as they kissed.  

Ky murmured joyfully as Sol explored every inch of his body—the soft crook between his neck and shoulder, the smooth planes of his chest, and the tender, pale flesh of his inner thighs.  Sol settled there for a while, nipping and sucking, as he listened to Ky's breaths grow sharper and shorter.

Ky was slender, certainly, not as broad-shouldered and heavyset as Sol was, but as he had discovered with much pleasure a few years ago, though young the boy was, he was not fragile, and did not like to be treated that way.  When Ky wanted to be rough, Sol was rough, and when he wanted to be treated gently, Sol was gentle and loving, but firm.  More often what Ky wanted was a mix of both ferocity and tenderness, a bit of fire and ice—the carefree intensity of desire coupled with the cool grace of passionate ardor.  

Their lovemaking was a dynamic mixture of solemnity and play, and but beneath the burning lust there lay a deep-rooted connection between the two, for their lives from the very moment they had met had become inexorably intertwined.  Sol was every bit a part of Ky, an important force that he had fought numerously, both with and against, a presence that had defined a large part of his life.  In return, Ky was an important haven for Sol, the only person in which he had ever completely confided, and also the only one who he was sure would understand and forgive him.  

Behind the stern, sober exterior of the man who had once been the commander of Sacred Order of Holy Knights, there was a boy that had been very confused and frightened with the world spun out of control about him; and it had taken a lot of trust and time on both of their parts to finally open up and reveal their secrets; a task that had not been trivial or either.  Sol had not known initially where his feelings for Ky had come from, but with time he had come to realize the enigma that had lain within the boy, the lonely longing for an equal, praying for one pillar of stability in the chaos that was stone cold reality.  

Ky whispered encouragements as Sol continued, breaking the older man out of his reverie.  Sol moved his way slowly back up, ignoring Ky's writhing and his murmured pleas.  He moved along the boy's stomach and finally to his neck, his chin, and his lips where he placed a searing kiss.  Ky was a responsive lover, content not only to enjoy but also to participate.  Everything that Sol did Ky reciprocated, whether with a shower of smaller kisses, gentle caresses, or simply leaning into the other man's touch.  Never was he still, always some small part of his body moving—his fingers ghosting over Sol's skin, his legs moving to twine with Sol's.  

"Love you," Ky whispered into Sol's ear before biting it softly, and arching off the bed with a sharp gasp when Sol brushed gently against his arousal.

Sol was flame and heat in bed, though he half expected half of that fury had come from Ky himself.  The younger boy had a sheen of his sweat covering his smooth, pale skin, and though he was the one being pressed against the bed, Sol often wondered which of the two of them it was who was in charge.  Ky was serious and polite in most circumstances, but he had no problems voicing his thoughts in the bedroom.  Though he was gasping and mewling, Ky was quiet, never once raising his voice so that it could be heard beyond the door.  Even when Sol's hands moved in the slow, tender movements he knew Ky loved, the blond was always so soft in his whispers, preferring to communicate with Sol in other ways.  

It was early in the evening when once more Ky was sleeping in Sol's arms.  The boy's bangs were damp from the sweat of their revelry, and the sheet that had covered his modesty had long fallen to the floor in the midst of their activities.   Ky had snuggled into Sol's arms, exhausted with the afternoon's intimacy, and using the man's arm as a pillow, dropped immediately into a deep slumber.  

With a small smile, Sol ran his fingers through the thin strands of Ky's golden hair; shining brilliantly in the dusk's setting sun.  There were yet still so many riddles that remained in their relationship, so many questions about it that Sol had yet to answer for himself.  Sometimes he wondered if they were at all relevant; if this happiness had all been born from the realization that he needed someone after all, that no one could bear all his sins alone.  

"I love you too, Ky," Sol murmured, and cuddled the blond closer to him.  Ky was much, much more than a companion or even a lover, he was Sol's support, he was Sol's confidant, and he was Providence who had forgiven him for everything.  Ky had shown Sol how to love once again, and how it was that he could regain his humanity despite the mark of the Gear branded on his forehead.  "Thank you."

As the sun set, a pair of gold and red eyes closed in the confines of the bedroom of Ky Kiske's apartment in the Quartier Latin of Paris, France.  The view out the window overlooked the lush Jardin du Luxembourg, but all Sol saw, even when he was dreaming, was the form of the slumbering boy in his arms.  

_My only hope,   
(All the times I've tried)   
My only peace,   
(To walk away from you)   
My only joy,   
My only strength,   
(I fall into your abounding grace)   
My only power,   
My only life,   
(And love is where I am)   
My only love._

 -"October" by Evanescence

~* the end*~


End file.
